The prison blog of an Orwellian unperson. As shown on National Geographic Channel's Banged Up/Locked Up Abroad episode Raving Arizona.

17 Apr 08

The Removal (Part 2) by Xena

Xena - A transsexual giant and Wiccan priest. The charismatic leader of Cult Of Xena (COX). Tattoos include a wasp on his penis and ant trails running up his legs. Recently cut off a testicle, as told in this series.

When I got back to my cell I removed my shoes and jumped onto my bunk. Laying with my head on the pillow, I had not realized how tired I was until Bamby woke me up two hours later at noon.“What time is it?” I asked him.“Twelve,” was his answer. “Are you going to school?” he asked.“No,” was my reply.“Why?” he asked, placing his hands onto my bunk.“Because I’m feeling sick. I think I’m coming down with a cold,” I lied. I just didn’t want to go.“No you’re not,” Bamby said. “Then if it’s a cold, it’s a head cold. All in your head!”“Okay, I’m not sick. I just won’t go. Do you want me to explain why or just take it for what it’s worth?” I said, rolling over and ignoring him.“Okay, fine, have it your way. I understand when you want cell time,” he said, and then picking up his school material he sat on his bunk waiting for the door to open so he could go to school. He didn’t have to wait long.

It was now 12:30 and believing I had not long to wait I got out my bleach, which was a small amount, and poured it into a bowl which I filled with water and placed into it one razor blade, two cut rubber bands, one needle and thread. I let them sit there for ten minutes then removed them and placed them into lightly soapy water. Now I had to wait for all the people or Orangemen waiting in the pod to go to school.

It wasn’t until 1:30pm when the announcement came over the loudspeaker for them to leave. During that time I had been thinking that superstitious feeling I had already experienced twice that day.“Fuck it!” I exclaimed out loud, and said to myself, “As soon as these people leave I’ll start.”I didn’t have to wait much longer. It was 1:45 when the door finally opened and Orangemen began to file out and on to school.

I got up and went to the door and strung a line above the door so I could place my bed sheet in front of the door. This would eliminate anyone from seeing in and would not draw any unwanted attention from far away because it was not taped directly to the window. I removed all of my clothes, and straddling the toilet I grabbed my scrotum with my left hand and with my right I cut the right side of my scrotum about 1 ½ inch long. The pain was minimal.

Blood began to run down the inside of my thigh. I glanced into the toilet and saw a steady drip, drip, drip bleeding from the wound. I placed the razor blade onto my table and reached into my scrotum with my thumb and forefinger. I grabbed my right testicle and pulled it to the surface of my newly aquired wound.

The next step was a little more difficult, cutting the inner layer of tissue which surrounded the testicle itself. At least remembering what I had read in the Mosby Medical Dictionary 2001 edition. I separated my testes with my left hand using my thumb and forefinger. I placed the razor at the top of the cut and buried the blade about one quarter inch into the testicle itself and began to cut down. The testicle came easily out of the skin. And with great amusement I realized that there was no pain.

Holding the razor blade between my teeth I grabbed one of the rubber bands from the bowl and tied it around the spermatic cord, below the spermatic bundle of my right testicle. I cinched it tightly, still no pain. Maybe it was adrenaline that was keeping me from feeling anything, or maybe hype with all the thinking that this would be so painful which was just not true. I grabbed the razor from between my teeth. Licking my lips I could taste the blood on the razor. I placed the blade directly above the cord about one half inch from the tied rubber band. In one swift motion I severed the testicle from my body, Then holding it like a fisherman would a minnow, I dropped it into the toilet and flushed.

I must tell anyone who wants to attempt anything like this at home to first numb the area. Either use a local anesthetic or take some strong painkillers. I looked to the ceiling and for the very first real moment I felt pain.“Oh fuck!” I screamed.The pain welled up like a hot arrow stabbing my abdomen and pounding as if it were tied to a jackhammer. Coffee is no suitable painkiller. It did not work when I was passing kidney stones five years ago, which at that time was the worst pain I had ever felt. But now the pain which shot into my body was way beyond the mere pain a kidney stone could cause. And coffee was just not doing the trick. The room began to sway and my eyes were losing focus. The pain was so intense I felt that that this were all I would be able to do. Of course I was wrong.

I set the razor blade into the soapy water bowl. Then I began to breathe. Inhale one deep breath, exhale, over and over until I regained my focus. I was not going to be defeated by pain. Pain was no match for my mind.

Looking down between my legs, I said, “One down and one left to be cut.”I reached back into my scrotum and found the left testicle residing where it ought to be and brought it forward to the wound in my sack. One small problem, Mosby’s Medical Dictionary never mentioned that the testes were wrapped individually from one another, and that there was a divider of thick skin separating the two with a road map of blue and red veins crossing one another throughout this section.

There were only two options. One, let go and go through the other side. Two, cut through the middle and hope for the best. I opted for number two, and grabbing the razor I began to chop. This skin however was a whole lot tougher and hurt a considerable amount more. I don’t know whether it was the cup of coffee or the superstitious feelings which were bombarding my mind at that moment. My hands began to shake violently and I had a whole lot of trouble concentrating. I put the razor blade back into the water and let go of what I was doing.

I stared at the ceiling for a long moment. I did not want to believe the events which were accumulating. This operation was not going my way at all. Again I began to breathe. And after a while my hands felt a little more steady.

I reached into my scrotum and began to pull the testicle to the opening when to my total horror the rubber band tied to my right spermatic cord came loose and blood sprayed from inside my scrotum all the way to the bunk, a distance of five feet. Now things went from serious to deadly. I felt for the very first time a panic. It rushed down from my head into my belly and then onward to my extremities. I violently began to shake again, and even though my mind was preoccupied, I still heard the glug-glug-glug of blood in a steady flow from my body. It flowed through the wound of my scrotum and into the toilet. It sounded like water being dumped from a plastic jug into a pool of water.

“Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!” I kept saying over and over again. I looked down between my legs and thought about just how long it might take for me to bleed out. The blood was a steady stream from my body to the inside of the toilet. I reached back and flushed. I watched the water fill the bowl and realized that the water was already so full of blood that I could not see the bottom of the bowl. I grabbed the wound in my scrotum and squeezed it shut. I was worried that I was not going to be able to complete this job. Too much bleeding, just way too much bleeding.

I stood up and went to the door. I pulled the sheet away from the door and looked out of the window. No one was walking around, and the officer in the tower looked as if he were sleeping. I moved the sheet back and went and flushed the toilet. As I stood there and watched the bowl fill up with fresh water I resolved in my mind that I truly needed to hurry up and cut off the other testicle. After getting it, I pulled it to the surface of the cut and held it there with my left hand. The bleeding was enormous and I began to feel faint for the first time.

I grabbed the razor and before cutting I glanced at the clock. It was already 2:30pm. I had been doing this for 40 minutes. At least ten to fifteen minutes of heavy bleeding. No wonder I was feeling faint, and feeling cold chills up and down and throughout my body. Shaking these thoughts out of my head I began to cut again, except now my nerves were shot and I was afraid I was going to die.

Self performing operations in Prison are not unusual. Albeit most of our readers have not been incarcerated. I remember my celly removing an abcess tooth, cutting out from under the gums with a razor blade. Of course pain killers were plentiful, at an inflated rate, but I would have waited out a month to see the Dentist.

It is a miracle she didn't bleed to death. What an amazing story.

May I suggest a submittal to READERS DIGEST? I am sure they would publish it.

Regarding prison health care, my son just got his teeth cleaned after three years. He told us the story of an inmate who was complaining of stomach pains and was told by medical staff to drink water for two days. He was finally seen by a doctor who had him transported immediately to a hospital right before his appendix ruptured. I'm guessing that isn't uncommon.